Man Up Stepbrother

by Danielle Sibarium

  “Oh no. What happened?”

  “We were robbed. Police think it’s gang related. The place was destroyed. Vandalized.”

  It takes me a moment to process what he’s saying.

  “They got a few hundred dollars from the register, and I guess it wasn’t enough,” Mom chimes in. “They smashed all the windows and tables, slashed the booths, and ever so kindly covered everything else with red and black spray paint.”

  “Motherfuckers,” my father adds.

  Mom rests her hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

  My father shakes his head. He looks dejected. Beaten. “No. No, it’s not.”

  “Did the police catch the guy that did this?” I ask, looking to either of them to answer.

  “They think it was a group of guys,” Mom explains. “Too much damage was done in the seven minutes it took the police to respond to the call for it to be just one or two people.”

  “Seven minutes? What took them so long? The police station is only two minutes away.”

  My parents exchange a dark look and send me to my room.

  *

  “Almost there,” I remind myself, trying to keep my mind focused on being strong for my brother. I wonder — if my parents were here, would I feel this weight? This burden? No. Because then I wouldn’t know what losing them feels like. My worst loss would still be when I was nine and my best friend moved away. I’d give a kidney right now to have my parents back and for that to be my worst memory.

  *

  A long, grueling six months passes with Sammy and I working right alongside my parents. First we had to sort through the mess to see if anything was salvageable, then we had to work on cleaning. Now, with all the new booths and tables in place, along with some modernizations my parents made, we’re ready to re-open.

  “This is ridiculous. I’ve sacrificed all my friends, all the girls I could’ve gone out with, and for what?” I hear Sammy and Dad in the kitchen. “I’m supposed to be out getting laid, not doing this bullshit,” Sammy complains a week before the ‘grand re-opening.’”

  “You’ll have plenty of time for girls when you’re away at college. Right now we need your help.”

  “You always need my help. But the truth is, you don’t need me at all. You need a fucking babysitter for the princess. Why don’t you hire a nanny and leave me the hell alone?” Sammy yells before storming back into the dining section and filling the salt and pepper shakers.

  I catch him glaring at me out of the corner of my eye. I wish I had a clue why my brother hates me so much.

  *

  Stupid memory. Sammy never hated me. Not then. Not now. Actions speak louder than words. If he truly hated me, he would’ve tossed me into foster care and went on with his life. I don’t care what he said when we last spoke. He doesn’t hate me. I refuse to believe it.

  *

  Everything in town is shut down. Two days had passed since the hurricane and the town is still in the dark.

  Little more than a year after we re-opened, things are finally back to normal, all the customers we lost after the burglary are back, and life is good. Or at least it was until the storm hit land two days ago. The weathermen and reporters say it was the most severe hurricane we’ve seen in over a century.

  The diner is one of hundreds of businesses destroyed in its wake up and down the East Coast. Even if the river water didn’t destroy the diner and it had been unscathed, it still spelled disaster for our business.

  The town and everyone in it is devastated. The air outside smells like death. Only one person physically died here as a result of the storm, but hundreds of others watched their hopes and dreams suffocate and drown as the filthy water continued to rise and wash away everything they owned.

  Our quiet little community now looks like a Third World country. It’s been ravaged by fire, there are busted windows everywhere, and the ground is littered with debris and sinkholes. Even if my parents could go in and whip up food for the town, they wouldn’t charge anyone. No one could afford the luxury of eating out when they have to replace all of their personal belongings.

  As it is, Mom and Dad donated all the bottled water and canned goods that had been stashed away in the refrigerator. If any of the other food were salvageable, they’d be giving it away too.

  I lay in bed at night, listening to them weigh their options.

  “We need to walk away,” my mother said.

  “We can’t. We don’t have a choice. We have to get back to work so we can pay them,” my father answered.

  “We’ll use the insurance money.”

  “It’s not enough. And we’ll be left with nothing and no way to support ourselves. Even if we go work for someone else, we won’t make enough to pay the mortgage on our house, let alone the balance of what we owe.”

  “They’ll understand,” my mother tried to convince him. “Or we could move and get lost in the mid-West somewhere.”

  “The only way to do that is with money, and we don’t have enough. They’ll track us down, and then what? We should’ve handed everything over to them in the beginning.”

  I don’t know who my parents are talking about. I think about asking Sammy but decide against it. He’ll probably just tell me it’s none of my damn business the way he does when I ask about anything else.

  A little more than two years later, Sammy’s home for winter break, and we’re up late watching a movie together, talking, laughing about a prank he pulled on his roommates at school. I don’t realize how late it is until the doorbell rings.

  My heart drops when I check the time. It’s two in the morning. No one should be ringing the bell this late. And why aren’t Mom and Dad home? They said they had to go over the books, but they’re never at the diner this late. Ever.

  Locked in the grip of fear, I look at my brother for reassurance. I don’t find any in the leery expression on his face. He holds his fingers to his lips, signaling me to keep quiet while he peeks out the window to see who could be ringing our bell at this time of night.

  Still keeping me at bay, Sammy opens the door. I’ve seen it in too many movies, read about it in too many books. As soon as I see the officers standing at our door, the tears stream from my eyes. The tears are soon replaced by screams as the word “fire” comes to life in my brain. My brother’s arms wrap around me and hold me as I sink to the floor, calling out, crying for my mother.

  *

  Our parents were the only ones in the building. I never understood how the fire spread so quickly that it trapped them inside. At first the authorities suspected arson but eventually ruled it out.

  Mom and Dad left enough money behind for us to live comfortably until Sammy graduated college. That had been the plan, until one day when it wasn’t. Sammy came home from meeting with the insurance company, looking pissed off. He pulled out my father’s cognac and drank until he passed out. The next day the plan changed, and he’s never been the same.

  I still love and adore my brother, but he’s different now. Cold. Hard. Angry.

  I get it, life’s been unfair and he does his best to shield me from the shit he feels forced to muddle through. But I miss the easygoing relationship we nurtured when he went away to college. That was the first time I remember him being happy and lighthearted. And we actually liked being around each other when he came home.

  The moment he agreed to be my legal guardian, everything between us shifted and changed. He’s overbearing and tries to micro-manage my life. The last time we spoke, I told him to “go to hell,” because he didn’t like the idea of me switching majors from pre-med to acting, and he lit into me.

  “I didn’t give up my entire future so you could go play make-believe for the rest of your life. You wanted to heal people. Great. Otherwise, grow the fuck up and stop costing me money!” he yelled.

  “That’s not fair, I never asked you to do that.”

  “No. I made sure you never had to ask for anything. And this is how you repay me? By fucking me ov
er? Well, I’ve got news for you, I’m not paying for you anymore. You want to go into acting, then you can do it the way all the other Hollywood starlets did, by spreading their legs.”

  I didn’t have time to think, my hand flew across his face on its own accord.

  Sammy looked stunned, like he couldn’t believe I’d dare slap him.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Sammy said, holding his cheek. “And don’t come back.”

  I didn’t expect him to be happy about my decision, but I didn’t expect that either. I just wanted a little breathing room, the opportunity to make some of my own decisions.

  I’ve thought about calling and apologizing every day for the last two weeks since the shit hit the fan, but I don’t want him to think I’m weak. If he sees the tiniest chink in my armor, he’ll be all over it, widening it bit by bit, until it grows into a gaping wide hole and I go back to pre-med with my tail between my legs.

  Where I’m concerned, Sammy is the ultimate control freak. I’ve accepted it because he is all I have left, and I’m so grateful I didn’t have to go into foster care. But he takes things to another level. Even still, when he has a say, he doesn’t let me go out with my friends. He barely lets me out of the house.

  If he catches wind of me so much as talking to a boy, he threatens the poor guy with a baseball bat. And if he doesn’t approve of my class schedule, he doesn’t pay my tuition until I change it to something he approves of. He always finds a way to convince me he knows best, especially when he tightens the purse strings; hence my pre-med major.

  I like medicine, but I went into it for the wrong reasons. My parents wanted me to become a world-renowned surgeon, and Sammy convinced me the best way to honor them is to move forward in all areas of life, as if they’re here.

  Maybe if they were and I could see the pride in their eyes when they look at me, it would be different. But they’re not, and there is no real reward for all the boring science classes I’ve already been forced to sit through, not to mention the impossible labs I’ve been working on. Not when it isn’t something I love, something I’m passionate about. But I love my brother with all my heart, and if he survives, I’ll go back into medicine. I’ll do whatever the hell he wants me to.

  Out of breath and with tears streaming from my eyes, I barrel through the door to his room. A high-pitched squeal escapes me when I see Sammy lying motionless in the hospital bed. Wires run between him and the various machines monitoring him.

  “Sammy!” I shriek. “Oh my God, what did they do to you?” I ask over the whooshing of the ventilator sucking in, hitching, and then releasing the air forced into his lungs. If that noise isn’t bad enough, there is a constant hiss coming from the oxygen spout on the wall.

  The nurse warned me when she called that he’d been seriously beaten and his injuries were life-threatening, but I didn’t expect this. His face is so bruised, one eye is a dark blackish/purple and swollen completely shut. His entire face is swollen and distorted. And that’s only what’s visible. A large bandage covers the top right quarter of his face and runs up to his head.

  My knees are weak. I think they’re going to buckle. Tears obscure my vision as I reach out to touch my brother’s hand. I squeeze my eyes shut. Sobs I’m unable to control rack my body. Just as I allow myself to fall, to drop to the floor, strong arms wrap around my waist, lift me up, and pull me away from my brother.

  Seized by fear, I suck in a large gulp of oxygen. I can’t find my voice to scream yet, but I kick out and flail in the arms that are stealing me away.

  “Blyat! Stop!”

  A hand covers my mouth. I’m going to die. Each beat of my heart slams against my chest with the threat that it could be my last. My mouth is dry, I can’t formulate any sound, and I’m shaking like a weak tree in the middle of a Category 5 hurricane. I have no control of my body. All I know is I need to fight; fight for my life.

  “Kiera, quiet down. Now!” the deep voice orders. I manage to separate my lips enough to sink my teeth into the hand covering my mouth and kick his leg hard. The way he reacts, I think I got his knee.

  “Fuck!!” He shoves me hard across the room opposite the door, away from him.

  I face my attacker, taking him in for the first time. Dark hair falls to his eyes. I search his face and body for any visible marks that would distinguish him in a crowd. He has a strong square jaw, and his dark, almost black eyes are narrowed and focused on me.

  By the way his shirt is pulling across his broad chest, I can tell he’s got plenty of muscle beneath it. Under normal conditions I’d have no chance against such a formidable adversary, but right now I don’t care how the muscles in his arms ripple as he moves, I have to get away from him. I’m fighting for my life.

  “Stay the fuck away from me.” Although my voice is barely more than a whisper, it’s deadly serious. My eyes dart off to the side and back to him over and over again as I search for something, anything in the room I can use as a weapon against my attacker.

  “Listen to me,” he orders in a low but definitive tone. “You need to shut up and come with me. I will explain once I get you out of here.”

  I shake my head, circling around toward the chairs meant for visitors to sit. I don’t think I’m strong enough to pick it up and throw it at him, but perhaps if I keep it between us. Or if I go the other way toward my brother, maybe I can press the call button for the nurse before he can stop me.

  He advances toward me one slow step at a time, palms up. Fuck! I backed myself into a corner.

  “Listen, Kiera. I don’t want you to get hurt. Please, just do as I say.”

  Before I can answer, before I can tell him to “fuck off,” another two men enter the room. An older man, pudgy around the middle, and a young blond man that looks to be just as fit and toned as the man trying to accost me. Both sneer at me with a snide smile, like I’m their prey and they just honed in for the kill.

  “You know, there’s something to be said about having a room at the end of the hall,” the older man begins speaking in an accent I’m not familiar with. “So far away from everyone.” He claps his hands. “No one can hear what’s happening inside it.” His eyes trail up and down my body with hunger burning in his eyes. Threat understood. “And even better when like this one, it’s conveniently located right beside the stairwell.”

  He’s sending a message to stop fighting. Too bad. I have to fight. If I don’t, they’re going to grab me and force me into that stairwell to do who knows what. I won’t go. At least, I won’t go willingly.

  The blond guy steps further into the room. He approaches my brother’s bedside and looks down at Sammy with a sick smile on his lips as he cracks his knuckles. “Now that we have her, can I finish?” he asks the old man.

  Never taking his eyes off me, the obvious leader of the group answers. “We’ll see about that, won’t we, princess.” It makes me sick that he’s using the nickname only Sammy calls me. His eyes shoot up to the dark-haired man closest to me for a moment.

  Mr. Tall, Dark, and Terrifying nods, his stare cold, hard, and stoic before turning his gaze on me. For a nanosecond, something almost sad flashes in his eyes. It’s gone so fast, I’m not sure I didn’t imagine it. All I can be sure I see is the emptiness in his eyes. It’s like he’s dead, like he holds no emotion whatsoever.

  With the speed of a tiger taking down a gazelle, before I can react at all, he lunges toward me. One steel-like arm pins me against his chest, the other presses hard over my nose and mouth. The pressure against my nose is causing sharp pain that makes my eyes tear up against my will. Against my will seems to be the theme of the day.

  “Stop fighting. Or else my friends here will do to you worse than they did to your brother.”

  “Don’t scare the poor girl, Dima,” the old man coos. “There’s no need for threats of violence against her. I have a better idea. How about we cut Sammy’s oxygen off five seconds for every second she struggles against us. I think that will work. How about you, golubushka?”r />
  “No!” I squeal.

  I can’t let them hurt Sammy. Not when he’s barely hanging on to life as it is. He needs a chance to recover. I struggle to shake my head. Misunderstanding what I’m disagreeing to, or maybe just trying to show me he’s the one holding all the cards, the old man nods at the blond, who pulls the oxygen cord off the wall-mounted device.

  No alarm rings to alert the nurses. There is nothing to suggest these men are thugs, and they are here to finish my brother off. That’s why they choose the oxygen, because it won’t garner attention until it’s too late. I stare at one of the machines monitoring Sammy. I hold my breath as his oxygen level slowly drops, one number at a time. I can’t let them do this.

  “Stop, please!” I plead.

  The old man just stares at me for a few life-altering seconds.

  They win.

  “I’ll do whatever you want. Just please leave him alone!”

  It’s my turn to sacrifice, to give back to my brother all that he gave to me. My turn to protect him and give him a chance to recover. If the only way I can do that is to give in and let these awful men have their way with me, then it is what I must do. I go slack in the dark-haired man’s arms, not misunderstanding for one moment that by giving up and giving in, I’m saying goodbye to life as I know it, and my brother. Possibly forever.

  Other books by Danielle Sibarium

  The Eternity Series

  For Always (Eternity 1)*FREE*

  And Forever (Eternity 2)

  The Heart Waves Series

  Heart Waves (1) *Free*

  Breaking Waves (2)

  Waves of Love (3)

  Heart Waves Series Boxed Set

  Man Up

  Each book revolves around a different couple, and each book has its own HEA

  Man Up Party Boy (Noah and Lexi)

  Man Up Playboy (Cooper and Selene)